In Memoriam: Randy Poffo

You may not recognize the name, but I guarantee you will instantly recognize the face of one of professional wrestling's most electrifying personalities and product spokesperson extraordinaire.

That life, that voice, that manic energy was suddenly extinguished this morning.

According to the Florida Highway Patrol, Savage was driving his Jeep Wrangler when he veered across a concrete median, through oncoming traffic, and "collided head-on with a tree." He was transported to Largo Medical Center, where he died. Savage's wife of one year, Lynn, was a passenger but sustained only minor injuries, according to TMZ.

Savage's brother, Lanny Poffo told TMZ that the wrestler suffered a heart attack while he was driving and then lost control of the vehicle.

I don't normally write obituaries for celebrities. But Macho Man was a powerful image of my childhood and early adolescence. I remember watching one of the greatest wrestling heroes turned villains on Saturday afternoons. I remember trying to emulate that "Ooooooh yeaaaahhh" of his (and failing miserably). I know a good number of people think that wrestling is silly. Quite frankly, I do too. I also know it's entertainment. And Randy Savage was always excellent at keeping me entertained.

I just hopes he doesn't lay the Diving Elbow Drop on anyone who catches a parting glance of Miss Elizabeth in the afterlife.

Music Video Friday: Rapture Remix

In case you totally missed the news this week, tomorrow is expected to be a very big day. People all around the world will be spending tonight like it's 1999, each in his/her own way. A mixtape is a bit cliché but I'm going to do it anyway. You're going to find some standards here but I hope to add a tune or two that, perhaps, hadn't crossed your mind. So without further adieu or comment I give you my Rapture Remix!

1. R.E.M - It's The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
   


2. Blonde - Rapture
   


3. Creedence Clearwater Revival - Bad Mood Rising
   


4. Johnny Cash - The Man Comes Around
   


5. AC/DC - Highway To Hell
   


6. Prince - 7
   


7. Rockapella - Shambala
   


8. Genesis - Supper's Ready: Part VI & VII: Apocalypse In 9/8 & As Sure As Eggs Is Eggs (Aching Men's Feet)
   


9. Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band - The Rising
   


10. Biola University Chorale - In Dat Great Gettin' Up Mornin'
    
    


And lastly, for those of the unlucky ones left behind who might need someone to hang out with:


11. The Beatles - You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)
    

Music Video Friday: Ode To A Butterfly By Nickel Creek

I was first tuned in to Nickel Creek by one of my best friends when I visited him in Maine for a week. The styles of music they play and the artists they've covered, both live and in studio, varies a good deal. It's difficult to pigeon-hole them in a specific musical genre, though I suppose "Progressive Bluegrass" is as good as any.

Initially, I balked at the band. Yes, my best friend played me "Smoothie Song" and, yes, it's a very good instrumental piece. But I was still rebelling against the music of my father. See, every Sunday morning as we kids would be getting ready for Sunday School, my parents would blast Stained Glass Bluegrass from the living room stereo system. For two hours every Sunday morning we woke up, brushed our teeth, put on our clothes, combed our hair, and ate our breakfast to bluegrass music.

When I started becoming my own man, I wanted to move as far away from how I grew up as possible (without killing my parents with stress). I pushed bluegrass music to the most nethermost regions of my brain and life.

It's only been in the past five years or so that I've begun to embrace some of those things that I grew up with, even to include bluegrass music.

Before you even think anything, my bluegrass library is teeny-weeny. Like, almost non-existent. But I do have Nickel Creek's three albums. They've all gotten extensive play, and I cannot find fault in any of them.

One of the biggest gems is the first song on their first album. It's completely instrumental, so you're going to be robbed of their rich vocals. But the mastery these three had on their instruments at such a young age would have made Bill Monroe blush with pride, I'm sure.

So here, for you, is Nickel Creek performing "Ode To A Butterfly" live on Austin City Limits in 2001.

Remember That Year The Reds Won The World Series?

Ah, good times!

(I have to make a note here right at the start: I spent all morning debating whether I should post this. It's going to be hard to rant about this while keeping it vague enough not to cause professional waves, for one. And I don't really want to offend the source of the rant, for two. But this dug around in my brain in a most unpleasant way and I have to put it out here.)

The New Republic founding editor Walter Lippmann once said, "Democracy is much too important to be left to public opinion." That is because public opinion is easily swayed and the process is easily corrupted.

Politics readily comes to mind.

So does American Idol.

Yes, it is very important that the public be engaged in social activities. It is also important to, at the same time, maintain the integrity of said social activity.

I am a strong proponent of fairness. In my life, in my dealings, I do my best to treat people fairly ... everyone on level ground. I detest an uneven playing field. Cheaters irritate the bejeezus out of me. (People who drive in the right-turn lane only to jump into the left-straight lane just to get a few cars ahead would be a great example.)

Okay, Diarist, where are you going with this?

You may or may not know that I host a weekly karaoke show in the District. Occasionally, the establishment will have a singing contest that occurs on karaoke night. When I am asked (or volunteered) to run these contests, which includes coming up with the rules to which the contest will adhere, I make them as fair as I can possibly make them while ensuring that the public will be engaged as well. It's quite a difficult balance, but I think I have (mostly) succeeded at striking that balance.

Now imagine how I must feel when I receive word that someone plans on rigging one of my competitions. Let me tell you, I do not feel well about this.

There are two things that make strong competitors what they are. First, they want to win the ultimate prize, whatever that prize may be. Second, they know without doubt that they can win without any outside help.

If you are not the least bit interested in winning the prize, please do not waste our time by competing. You're simply taking up space and oxygen that someone else actually wants. If you have any doubt that you can win this thing fairly, please do not waste our time by competing. Odds are you won't win anyway.

Look, competitions are what they are and rules are what they are. I'm not so naïve as to think that people don't school the system. I know it happens. I write my rules in a way that you can bring your friends to help ensure that you make the cut. The intentions do not in any way, shape, or form include bringing your friends to rig the whole enchilada.

I do build in fail-safes to counter-balance cheating, but they are very limited and will only be used if I have no other choice. Trust and believe ... I will use my fail-safes if forced. But I'd honestly prefer not to have to go that route. I'd honestly prefer that everyone compete fairly. Which means it's all on you.

Have you got it in you?

Music Video Friday: Horny Like A Dandy Mashed By Loo And Placido

I love mashups. The best ones work so seamlessly that you'd swear this is how they were meant to be written - all of these different artists writing the same song separately without even knowing it ... the disparate sums of an incomplete whole. That is until the right visionary, the one person (or persons) who could hear what the others could not, comes along and puts the correct pieces together to complete the song that was begging to be made.

I first saw this at Town Danceboutique. Well, I technically heard it first. That driving guitar riff. I thought, "They're playing The Dandy Warhols? Odd choice of music." Then I heard Hot 'n' Juicy's vocals ring in. I turned my head to one of the many large projector screens and witnessed this beautiful creation.

Here, the farthest thing from Frankenstein's Monster, is the song that The Dandy Warhols and Mousse T didn't know that they were separately writing together, as completed by Loo & Placido.

O.B.L. Is D.O.A.

Osama bin Laden is dead.

But you already knew that. (Unless, of course, you live in a fortified bunker with no telephone or internet.)

When the word came from President Obama last night, it was a surprise to the entire world. I guess the bulk of us figured the President as more of a "search and seize" type of person. You know, bring him back alive so we can try him in our civilian court system. Instead, President Obama gave a group of men I'd never want to piss off the "seek and destroy" order. And they did just that efficiently and effectively. According to reports, there was only one civilian casualty ... and that was only because one of those brave terrorists used a woman as a human shield.

The last thing bin Laden saw was the front end of a bullet. Now he's buried in an unmarked grave.

Obviously there is a ton of written material on the Internet on this subject. So I won't expound upon it. I will, however, share a few thoughts:

• Osama bin Laden is dead. You don't need to see the pictures nor the video as proof. Let it go and get on with your life.
• If you think this was done as a political stunt to raise the President's flailing poll numbers, you are a cynic of the worst order.
• If you think this event will have any bearing on the 2012 election, you're wrong. And if you disagree with me, you're also an idiot.
• While this is a great day for America, it is not the end of The War On Terror. For every dead Osama bin Laden, there are 50 more waiting in the wings to rise and take his place.
  

Take this moment. It is yours. Do whatever you feel is proper to celebrate justice and/or to mourn again those we've lost because of this dead animal. But remember, our task is not finished. We are still the target of freedom-hating people everywhere.

God bless America.

Music Video Friday: Let Me Hear You Scream By Ozzy Osborne

Today marks Game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals, with my Washington Capitals facing hated conference rivals Tampa Bay Lightning. This isn't Tampa's first time in the dance - they won Lord Stanley's Cup not that long ago and have three players still on the team who remember that year.

Considering that they have three members who've held the Cup (we only have one, who won it for the New Jersey Devils 11 years ago) and our history of, um, not doing very well in the post-season, I figured that the boys could use some positive energy tonight.

I noticed this year that we've seen a few more familiar faces during the in-game crowd pump-up videos. Pat Sajak? Makes sense. He lives in the D.C. Metropolitan area and has Caps season tickets. David Gregory? Okay, I'll buy it. He lives and works in the area, and he's been a fan for a while. Tom Greene? Well, he's a part of our Capitals Consciousness now and forever. (To the point of re-shooting his clips in a Caps sweater specifically for us. w00t!)

But Ozzy? I didn't get it, couldn't understand it. What possible tie does he have to my beloved team? None that were overtly apparent.

Turns out I'm not a very good heavy metal student. Or I would have picked up that one of the songs Caps Entertainment plays during the game actually is an Ozzy song. Team uses song. Song is a hit with fans. Team gets singer of said song to dress up in Caps Red. Meh ... I think it's a bit of a long stretch (since the man doesn't appear to follow hockey one bit) but, hey, if it gets the energy up in the Phone Booth, who am I to argue semantics?

If you don't know that song to which I am referring (or, like me, didn't realize that it's an Ozzy Osborne song), here it is. Enjoy!

Music Video Friday: Ain't No Grave By Johnny Cash

Today is Good Friday. This day marks, according to the various Christian religions, the day that Jesus Christ died. He rose from the grave three days later, a day celebrated as Easter (which also happens to be Universal Chocolate Candy, Marshmallow Creatures, And Dyed Eggs Day ... funny that coincidence). Of course, both dates aren't the actual dates but randomly chosen using complex mathematical equations. Or they could have been chosen to be celebrated in lieu of an already-established pagan holiday. I can never remember.

Today is also Earth Day. It is the day, according to staunch environmentalists, that Mother Gaia will rise up and unleash her green fury upon all humanity for centuries of violating her natural purity. Or maybe it was randomly chosen as a one-off political stunt by an upset United States Senator. Meh, it doesn't matter.

Considering that Jesus rose from the grave and ascended into heaven, I suppose that would make him the First Environmentalist, as his body wasn't left behind to tarnish Mother Gaia. Which makes this weekend the Coincidences Of All Coincidences!

Snark aside, here's a bit of music goodness on which to meditate this holy weekend. Happy Whatever-Holiday-You-Decide-To-Celebrate!

A Brief Moment On Blogging

Once upon a time, I was a prolific political blogger. I wouldn't say I was up to the same writing standards as a certain blogger who is fairly close to me, but I was pretty good at it. And I had the numbers to (mostly) support it. I averaged 60 unique hits a day, not a shabby number for someone who wasn't looking to make a career out of slamming politicians online. I ran that blog for shy of four years.

Then I hit the wall. I mean, I was so burnt out that I didn't touch a keyboard for over a year. I was kind of sick of it all ... the politicians, the flamers who came to my site just to argue, the depressing nature of it all (to me). And I couldn't think of what else to write about.

That same blogger I mentioned earlier pulled me aside one holiday afternoon and asked me why I quit writing. He thought I was good at it. He thought I had a unique and entertaining voice. And he was a little disappointed that I just stopped writing. We talked about it for a good chunk of time: he playing the psychologist, I playing the patient. At the end of it, he told me to just write. It didn't matter what about. Just write.

So, on 15 June 2007, I started writing again. About whatever random thought jumped off the front of my head.

I don't pull the page hits I used to. And you know what? I'm totally cool with that. Because I write about what I want to write about. I write about what makes me smile, or to vent a perceived slight, or to share a song or movie, or ... whatever.

It's my sandbox. Sometimes my sandcastles are works of wonder. Sometimes they look more like Smials. But they're mine. You can smile at them or you can sneer. Either way makes no difference to me. I've finally learned that I don't need your hit on my page to validate my voice.

But I do appreciate that you visit and I thank you for being here.

Now let us all go about our day. ^_^

UPDATE 04/21/2011 12:12 PM: Thank you, DCBlogs, for the link. And welcome readers who are visiting via DCBlogs. Feel free to rummage around.

Sometimes The Thought Really Does Count

I heard through the grapevine of a friend who is going through a difficult time. I've known this person for a long time and have seen him go through many difficult times. But, if what I'm hearing is correct, this might be one of the most difficult.

I understand what it's like going through something like that.

A few years back, I went through the darkest patch of life I've ever been through. It was, quite literally, a year-long depression. Despite my best efforts, I alone couldn't shake myself out of it. Were it not for the love of friends and the soothing balm of three or four songs I doubt that I would have ever emerged alive.

I know how powerful music is to my friend. I know that it shines a much needed light for him into that dark place. So, my friend, I hope you read this. And I hope that this song helps you as much as it helped me.

For My Allergy Suffering Readers

I may not feel your pain, but I do sympathize. This one's for you.

Music Video Friday: Queen at Live Aid

Queen is one of my favorite bands, even as they continue greatly diminished. They last toured as the "real" Queen in 1986, a year before frontman Freddie Mercury was diagnosed with HIV. So it's easy to forget how powerful, how charismatic they were. It's easy to forget that Freddie Mercury was the greatest frontman to have ever lived. Here is their live performance at Live Aid on 13 July 1985 - the performance that stole the benefit concert and showed the world, again, why Queen was king.

Quoth The Raven

I'm a fan of technology. I'm not nearly the technophile I once was. I have neither the time, resources, nor drive to be as deep in the siliconed, wired sea the way I was even 3 years ago. Technical advances are moving too quickly for me to keep up. If I were still working a job that kept me as engaged as my job in Chantilly did, perhaps I'd still be on top(ish) of things. But that's not my life today. Today, I'm engaged enough to have a vague clue about what's going on but not engaged enough to deeply care. All of that said, please re-read the first five words of this paragraph.

With the rise of the iPhone, the various Android appliances (including the Nook), and the Kindle, we are finding more and more of our tomes of knowledge and entertainment put to digital form. Most of the best stuff is public domain and, thus, free. It was only a matter of time before someone sold out in the name of "saving customers a buck or twenty-five".

There is chatter amongst the wired believers that the written word is dead and all things are moving to the digital realm. I hope, for all of our sakes, that they are wrong and that the papered word will be around so long as we can produce paper. Otherwise one day all of our literature shall be as thus.

Stake Land: Awesome Movie Or Awaiting Disappointment?

Anyone who really knows me knows that I love me a good horror flick. The problem with that is that there are so few good horror flicks. I've seen more than my fair share of movie trailers promising that this time I will get the horror movie I've always wanted: suspenseful, engaging, truly terrifying. The stuff that spawns fear of the dark and gives birth to eldritch nightmares. But far more often than not, I am left unsatisfied by a film that plays to the lowest common denominator by dumbing down the story and piling on the cheap scares (which don't scare me at all).

Yesterday, I saw a new movie called Stake Land on the iTunes Movie Trailers webpage. I watched the two featurettes, "Martin" and "Belle". They are some of the best pieces of suspenseful cinematography that I've ever seen. Both run shy of 5 minutes (closer to 4 minutes if you don't count the movie clip montage at the end of each piece). Both had my eyes glued to the screen. "Martin", in particular, had my heart-rate up a bit higher than normal. These clips are eerie. These clips are memorable. These clips make you want to know what will happen next.

And if history has taught me anything, the movie will be nothing like them.

Horror movies are hard to do. Horror movies containing vampires are even harder. 30 Days Of Night was one of those very few horror movies (specifically containing vampires) that got it right. I cared about the characters. I jumped a time or two. I got a cardio workout without ever moving from my seat.

Can Stake Land follow in those footsteps? It's possible. But it's not probable.

Still, the horror movie freak in me is hopeful.

Happy April Fool's Day

To the vast majority of you April Fooling Fools out there ...

Wake Up, Ward 8!

I've never been more ticked off at a politician than I am at my city councilmember, Marion "Night Owl" Barry. Drug use. Drug use again. Suspicion of drug use. Unpaid taxes. Stalking. Scandals and harrassments. Unpaid tickets. Race baiting.

And now driving a car with illegal tags.

The man is a stain ... a blot ... a cancer on our city. He preaches and lives "entitlement". He sees himself as above the law. He portrays himself as the eternal victim. He is a racist. And, Ward 8, he has done little-to-nothing for you.

In 2012, we will have the opportunity to rid ourselves ... to rid our Ward ... to rid our city ... of this charlatan. We will have the opportunity to elect someone who puts the people of Ward 8 over his/her own ego.

I don't know yet who that person will be. I urge you to look at all of the candidates and to weigh them carefully. I beg you to chose your next councilmember wisely.

That is, of course, unless you're quite happy with the way things are going.

So. Um. Yes. Hello. So, I Think I'm Back.

Okay. I'm sorry. I apologize for having been absent for several months. (Months?! Oye, I guess so.)

Oh, Diarist. Where have you been? What have you been doing? And how is the double hand transplant going? (Because that's the only excuse we're going to give you for being gone for so long.)

I wish I had an elaborate story of globetrotting and jet-setting with Lindsay Lohan, Charlie Sheen, and Gary Busey. Or of a horrific, temporary, partial bout of elephantiasis of the nether-regions. Or of a near-death experience from a wild llama attack.

But the truth is that I just didn't care to blog. Anything.

Politics of late has been downright depressing. Celebrities are too busy winning and missing court dates to be interesting. I haven't been moved very much by the latest tech news.

And don't get me started on D.C.'s sports teams. (Minus the Caps, of course. But there's enough ink being spilt by far better wordsmiths than I on that topic.)

So I haven't written. Nor have I wanted to write.

My muse has left me for another blogger. (Or group of bloggers. I don't know exactly. She's a slut like that.)

I need to get back to writing. This is one of the very few things that kept me grounded, one of the very few things I found joy in doing.

Until lately.

Perhaps if I just get back in the saddle and ride, damn the direction ... maybe just perhaps I'll get my mojo back.

(A little encouragement from you, my faithful readers, wouldn't hurt either.)

Summoning The Great Old Ones?

I think Billy Joel gets a bad rap. Yes, his brand of music can be uninspired (see 52nd Street) and, at times, tedious (see the appropriately named Fantasies & Delusions). But he has also put out several very solid albums (see this, this, and this). Plus his string of hits is nothing to scoff at and one that today's artists wish they could have.

Still, Gizmodo put up a post today that I honestly have no argument against. And it got me thinking about Joel's music and a far more, and deeply secret, nefarious reason for his music's popularity.

Perhaps the years of Billy Joel ringing in our ears and throughout our brains, building upon itself slowly, is actually a hymn ... a calling, if you will ... to The Great Priest, who lies dreaming in his house.

In which case, well played, Mr. Joel. Well played.

One Turkey To Rule Them All

Just when all hope was lost. Just when there was no light left in the building. Just when I feared I would have to close the Diaries due to lack of interest, my Muse returned to remind me that I still have important things to say ... snarky things to say ... about the gall and the stupidity of people.

And for that, I truly thank The Night Owl (or, as I think I may have to start calling him, The Gift That Keeps On Giving).

Mr. Barry has been giving away turkeys at the Union Temple Baptist Church for the several years now. It's a very popular program in my Ward 8, which is the most economically depressed area in my fair city. You will not hear me breathe one bad word about this program. The holiday season is especially hard on those who are struggling and anything to help make their Thanksgiving better is alright in my book.

But I do have to call out incompetence.

Last year, the demand far exceeded the supply and Barry promised such an oversight would never happen again. This year, people who wanted a free bird had to sign up ahead of time to get one. Once all of the people listed got theirs, whatever was left would be handed out to whoever showed up. (Or at least that's my understanding of how this was supposed to have worked.)

Well, this year's giveaway hit another snag that left people frustrated and upset. All because that evil Giant wouldn't deliver the birds.

First of all, I must apologize to the Ward 8 community for Giant’s failure to provide timely support to the Community. It’s simply pathetic and incomprehensible to me that a multi-billion dollar corporation, like Giant, would take a position that would deprive children, seniors and other adults of food for the Thanksgiving holiday.

But, you see, the fact that the turkeys were a no-show wasn't Barry's fault. Except for that part where it was.

D.C. Council member Marion Barry (D-Ward 8), well known for his annual turkey giveaway in Southeast Washington, had no Butterballs available for residents Tuesday morning after he failed to pay Giant food stores $26,000 for their delivery.

In a news release, Barry said he had $17,000, falling short by $9,000, but promised Giant that the rest was coming. " ... Giant insisted that the full $26 thousand dollars be received by the store on Monday and that without full payment, the Company would not delivery the birds to Barry," a news release read.

Look, I know people are suffering. I know that some residents in Ward 8 depend on this annual event to put a decent Thanksgiving dinner on the table. But this whole mess could have been avoided. It's not like we don't know when Thanksgiving is going to happen from one year to another. (Not like that blasted Easter.) It's the fourth Thursday of November, for Pete's sake! Mr. Barry had plenty of time during the year to raise whatever funds he needed to ensure that his turkey giveaway would happen on time and without issue. The fault lies on him, not on Giant.

(Giant, by the way, did deliver some of the birds with the rest coming today, even though they still haven't been paid for them.)

I have a suggestion to my fellow Ward 8 residents. Stop putting your faith in Marion Barry. He will fail you constantly and consistently. Next year, if you need some extra help putting food on the table, make a trip out to Landover where you're far less likely to walk away empty-handed.

My Blogging State Of Mind Lately